


Everything I Do, I Do for You

by FuntasticFrost



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Angst, Coda, Crying Castiel, Dean secretly loves Cas just as much as Cas loves Dean, Episode: s11e10 The Devil in the Details, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mother Hen Castiel, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Castiel, Present Tense, Protective Castiel, Season/Series 11, Sick Dean Winchester, Soul Bond, Winged Castiel, because
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-16 00:05:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5805559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuntasticFrost/pseuds/FuntasticFrost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas crouches down beside him, pressing a hand to his shoulder and holding him steady. His wings reach out to touch him, caress his soul, heal his maladies. Dean doesn’t know this, of course. Castiel’s wings exist on a plane that humans cannot see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'll Look After You

Castiel listens to the voicemail as if the message is composed of holy gospel.

_"Cas, the angels tried to nuke The Darkness. I'm in Nebraska... "_

Castiel immediately transports himself to the Midwestern state, his phone glued to his cheek while Dean labels his location.

_"...the middle of nowhere. Elsmere. Off of Highway 183.”_

Cas arrives before the recording is finished, his phone already stored away in his trench coat pocket. He stands in the middle of a linear road surrounded by fields and sparse trees. He squints his eyes and spots an unmoving vehicle a half-mile ahead. Dean must be waiting for him. Castiel longs to appear instantly at his side, but he strained the meager remains of his grace in his haste. He shed handful of sleek, black feathers, and his wings drag behind him on the asphalt, exhausted. He is still recovering from Rowena’s spell; he will only further injure himself if he continues to stretch the limits of his wounded _angel mojo_ (as Dean says). Therefore, Cas resorts to running. He can’t help but feel anxious: he knows Amara was with Dean; she might’ve done something to him, might’ve hurt him…

Out of their own accord, Castiel’s impatient wings flap and help propel him forward, despite the action causing him discomfort.

“Dean.” Cas slows when he nears the vehicle, steadying his breathing to ensure Dean doesn't know Cas just raced to reach him, so he doesn’t realize his grace is splintered. “I came as soon as you called.”

Upon seeing his charge, his worrying intensifies. Dean leans against the side of the impala with a sour grimace plastered to his sickly green face; the hunter turns his head in Castiel’s direction upon hearing the sound of his voice. “Cas?”

“Are you alright?” he asks, rushing forward as Dean is violently sick, nearly falling over from the force of his heaving. Cas crouches down beside him, pressing a hand to his shoulder to hold him steady. His wings reach out to touch him, caress his soul, heal his maladies. His charge doesn’t know this, of course. Castiel’s wings exist on a plane that humans cannot perceive.

“I’m fine,” Dean insists after a few minutes, wiping his mouth. “I’m done.”

Cas isn’t satisfied with the hunter’s reassurances. His eyebrows knit together. “You’re not alright.”

He proceeds to examine Dean, gazing into both of his eyes and pressing a hand to his forehead: his skin is warm, feverishly hot. Dean is pliable under his touch and leans against the door of his car, closing his eyes as nausea threatens to overtake him. Cas frowns, deeply distressed as he fails in his efforts to heal.

“What’s wrong with me?” Dean asks, his throat hoarse from retching. He cracks his eyes open and gazes up at the angel. Cas wipes vomit from the corner of Dean’s mouth.

“Stick out your tongue,” Cas orders, resting his hand underneath Dean’s jaw.

“What?” Dean asks; he’s dazed, yet compliant.

“Let me check your temperature,” Cas holds out a single finger, which alarms Dean for some reason he doesn’t understand.

“No, nope, not happening,” Dean protests, swatting his hand away. Cas sighs his vessel ceases to touch his charge. However, his wings still tenderly brushing against the hunter. Cas suspects Dean would disapprove of his automatic caresses, if he knew, but his charge is unaware. Cas would control is grace if he could, simply to please Dean, but he can’t.

“You’re suffering from Smiting Sickness. The blast radius from the site of the explosion is contaminated with radiation,” Cas explains.

“That’s a thing?” Dean raises his eyebrows and Cas nods. “You can heal me, right?”

“No, I can’t.” Cas frowns. He’s been trying the entire time with no success. Dean appears surprised and disappointed, but there’s nothing Cas can do except move Dean out of the radiation zone. “You need to go back.”

“What? No!” Dean argues, climbing to his feet on shaky legs. Castiel’s wings wrap around him, fluttering anxiously. “I need to make sure Amara is dead.”

Dean wobbles, queasiness etched into his features, and Cas takes hold of him with both hands. “I’ll go alone. The closer you get to the site, the worse your symptoms will become. You’re going back.”

Dean opens his mouth to protest, but then clamps it back shut. He’ll probably puke again if he doesn’t leave soon. “Alright… I’ll go check on Sam.”

Castiel’s unease fades and his wings relax, settling around Dean in a ring of feathers. His grace brushes against the brand on Dean’s shoulder; he feels at peace when their souls make contact. He wonders if Dean ever notices. Does he ever suspect that the angel is constantly feeling him?

Cas nods and lets go, physically, yet his grace is more reluctant. His wings reach out as he steps away, trying to hold onto Dean.

Dean stares at him with meaning. He listens intently to every word. “Cas, if she really is dead, bring her body out.”

If Dean wants him to do something, then he will. “And if she isn’t?”

Castiel’s wings flutter in excitement when Dean looks at him with what appears to be worry. He enjoys almost believing that Dean cares for him and considers him family.  

“Run.”


	2. I'll Fight for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas confronts Amara, who feels she has no competition.

“Castiel.” Amara adorns a smile of pleasant surprise, her arms lowering to her sides.

He breathes, heavy and anxious, marching towards her.

“What did you to do to her?” he demands, his ruffled wings unfolding as he attempts to appear intimidating. Amara is unfazed by his display of strength; she doesn’t even bat an eye.

“Her?” The Darkness looks over her shoulder and glances at Ambriel’s empty vessel. “I consumed her. Her grace, her spark, her memories… everything.”

Castiel’s heart palpitates. The entirety of the Heavenly Host intended to smite The Darkness, yet she appears unharmed. Of course she is capable of feasting upon humans _and_ angels. Is there anything stronger than her?

An expression of satisfaction settles upon Amara’s face, her eyes glazed and dreamy as she trails a finger across her lips. “In fact, she really hit the spot.”

Anger bubbles inside of him and he summons his angel blade, gripping his weapon tight. Her eyes dart between him and his blade; she quirks an eyebrow, amused.

“Really?” she scoffs. “I mean, Heaven brought the thunder, and it barely even scratched my paint job.” Amara gestures to herself, to her new clothes and unmarred vessel. Her sarcasm is nearly tangible as she continues: “But you and a shiny knife… _sure_ , that’s gonna work.”

Castiel, unfortunately, knows she speaks the truth. No angel is a match for her. However, he isn’t dissuaded: his wings flare out in warning. “You think I’m afraid to die?”

Amara replies in a matter-of-fact tone: “I know you are. You reek of fear and self-loathing.”

Castiel raises his arm, poised to strike. He aims to run her through the chest, but she catches his wrist and holds him still.

She sounds unimpressed, despite the murderous intent his wings convey: “Ooh, scary.”

The Darkness waves a hand and Cas is flung against a tree. He grunts when he collapses painfully on the ground; thankfully, he didn't land awkwardly on his wings. He grits his teeth, glaring at Amara as she approaches.

“She’s right, you know. You’re weak, expendable.” Her words are bitter because they’re true.

 _Sam and Dean Winchester are the real heroes_.

The Darkness kneels down; she wears a faux pity smile. “And why God took a special interest in you, I’ll never understand. My brother always had a horrible taste in men.”

“Just do it.” Cas spits, clenching his teeth. Amara cups his chin, careful.

“Alas, you’re not even worth the effort. No offense, but you look a little used up.” She caresses his jaw, then reaches for his hand. She presses her palm against his, tracing his fingers.

“According to Ambriel, you’re the one who holds the claim over Dean Winchester’s soul.” Her eyes flick upwards in question.

His handprint. His mark. Castiel realizes that The Darkness must’ve attempted to consume Dean. Tried and failed. “Yes.”

Amara nods. “I don’t suspect he would pick you, given the choice.”

Over his friends? His family? Sam? Dean chose his brother over the entire world countless times, but Castiel doesn’t have the same privilege. Dean doesn't know about their soul bond, but Cas doubts the hunter’s reaction would be positive.

“No, I don’t think he would.”

Amara smiles, triumphant in his acceptance of defeat. He supposes she thinks she can have Dean all to herself simply because Cas isn’t competition. She’s correct, in a sense. Despite years of being his guardian, of always watching over him, Castiel is still expendable in the eyes of his Righteous Man.

Amara presses her hand against his chest, and fiery agony tears through his vessel. Castiel screams, his wings flapping in an attempt to escape.

He disappears in a flash of light.


	3. I'll Sacrifice Myself for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean confront Lucifer in order to save Sam, but everything goes to hell.  
> Literally.

With the snap of his fingers, Satan dumps them into the cage. Dean yells his brother’s name, but Sam is lying half-conscious in the corner, unresponsive. The Devil steps between the Winchesters, capturing their attention. Castiel’s breathing shallows.

Lucifer’s eyes flicker between the two of them, amusement painted on his lips. “Scared?”

Dean squares his shoulders, sporting a brave face. Cas doesn’t even bother to appear valiant; he's terrified. Satan is standing a mere stride away from his charge, wielding enough power to obliterate the hunter with little effort. Castiel’s left wing twitches, longing to wrap around Dean, to shield him. He clenches his jaw and controls the instinctive movement, reeling in his grace.

“Not even a little,” Dean replies, almost sounding courageous. Lucifer looks at him, contemplative, as if the hunter is the key to a locked door. His eyes light up, and Cas has the suspicion the archangel plans to rip Dean to shreds in order to convince Sam to consent.

Cas unsheathes his angel blade and his wings move on their own accord, curling around Dean’s entire body in an attempt to protect him. Lucifer will have to tear through Castiel’s grace in order to touch his charge.

Lucifer arches an eyebrow, an expression of genuine shock etched into his features. He quickly looks between the two of them before bursting into hysterical laughter.

“You’re -- _him_ \-- ? Oh, this is too _funny!”_ Lucifer doubles over, failing to contain his chuckles. Cas swallows, hard, and Dean shoots him a confused look. “You’re _pathetic_ , Castiel. Hardly an angel at all.”

Dean curls his fists, grinding his teeth, offended. Their shoulders touch as Castiel’s wings gradually pull him closer. “What the hell does that mean?”

Lucifer finally collects himself, grinning from ear to ear. “You see,” -- he pauses, snickers, and then continues -- “Well, actually you don’t.”

Castiel’s eyes are blown wide, nervous, and his wings tremble with loathsome anticipation. Judging from the way his grace responds to Dean, the archangel should be able to perceive the depth of his affections. He’s embarrassed, but he remains silent. Rowena told them to buy her time to complete the spell, so he has no choice but to pray the situation doesn’t worsen.

Lucifer seems to enjoy watching Cas squirm; he keeps his gleaming eyes locked onto the seraph while he speaks: “The point is, your angel here has his wings wrapped around you. Isn’t that right, brother? You like cuddling with the apes, don’t you?”

Cas averts his eyes. He allows the Devil to verbally gut his insides, knowing the archangel finds his feelings hilarious. They need to keep him occupied long enough for the spell to work. Cas is willing to sacrifice his friendship with Dean in order to save both of the Winchesters. If their friendship is permanently destroyed, _so what?_ Castiel is expendable; he doesn’t really matter. All that matters is the safety of his charges.

Dean furrows his eyebrows, digesting the Devil’s words, and ultimately looks assaulted. Castiel’s stomach churns.

Lucifer’s smile is entertained, teasing. “He can’t control them, I suppose, though he tried. He didn’t want me to find out and tattle on him.” His expression morphs into one of disgust. “I can’t believe you, Castiel. You’ve fallen even farther than I thought.”

Dean starts, perhaps to punch Satan in the face, but Castiel’s wings prevent him from moving. His grace is concentrating solely on protecting the hunter, so they nearly manifest on a physical plane of existence. A cocoon of light illuminates the cage and surrounds Dean. His charge looks freaked out and demands, “Cas, let go.”

“I can help with that, if you’d like.” The Devil’s tone is amicable, but Castiel’s feathers ruffle, defensive, as a sense of dread overwhelms him. His blue eyes flicker to Sam, who is gathering himself and returning to full consciousness.

In that moment, Lucifer lunges.

He claws through Castiel’s grace with his bare hands, ripping out feathers and shredding layers of light. Cas wails, shrieks, and the Devil rips his left wing clear in half. He presses a hand over the gaping wound, scrambling to prevent his grace from leaving his vessel. Still screaming, Cas collapses in a pool of blood and raven feathers. The agony racking through his being is torture… but _Dean._

His charge’s eyes are enormous, shocked, and he watches in horror as Cas writhes. He returns to reality when the Devil grabs him and struggles to escape. Over the sound of his own cries, Cas can hear the snapping of bone. He watches, useless, as the scene unfolds. Sam rushes to defend his brother as Satan delivers heavy blows, but the hunter is swatted away like an annoying gnat. Dean manages one measly punch to the jaw before Lucifer slams him against the bars of the cage, fingers coiled around his throat. Castiel’s heart jolts.

Sam seems to have forgotten the blood flowing from his nose; his soul calls out for his brother: “Let him go!”

Lucifer’s eyes are cold. “You know what I want to hear, Sam.”

Dean shakes his head in protest, his face changing color. Sam can’t resign to becoming Lucifer’s vessel: Dean wouldn’t be able to cope.

Cas sucks in a breath and takes brief inventory: his grace leaks out of his vessel, but slow enough. He stifles the pain, tears streaming down his cheeks. Cas grips the bars of the cage, hoisting himself up; his legs wobble when he takes a step towards the Devil. Desperation floods his veins. He needs to save Dean. Lucifer’s eyes leave the younger Winchester; he sneers when his gaze lands on Cas.

“I don’t understand what you see in humanity, Castiel. I mean, _seriously?_ Do you honestly believe these apes stand a chance against The Darkness?”

Dean is choking, grunting, prying at Devil’s fingers with sweaty white knuckles. Lucifer elicits a strangled noise out of him to prove his point. Dean can’t breathe; therefore, Castiel is suffocating.

He opens his mouth, hesitant, an idea forming in his battered brain. “You can defeat The Darkness?”

“I can.” Satan sounds confident in himself. An eager voice whispers in Castiel’s mind. Lucifer was there when God locked The Darkness away; he’s the only archangel left; he might be the solution; he needs a vessel, but he can’t have Sam.

“Then take me.” Cas offers himself in a plea, near begging. He can’t see any other option because there isn’t one. Lucifer arches an eyebrow, but he doesn’t reject him.

“Don’t.” Sam’s protest is faint; the hunter’s heart doesn’t fully object. He fears the Devil and loves his brother more than any mere angel; Castiel understands. He doesn’t blame Sam.

Dean’s eyelids flutter as his windpipe is crushed; lips move and he whispers a word, barely audible: “Cas.”

Castiel decides then: he is nothing; he is expendable. His Righteous Man is worth a dozen seraphs, a hundred, a thousand. Humanity needs to be saved from the wrath of The Darkness, and Lucifer may very well be their only hope. One angel of the garrison in exchange for Amara’s defeat: a cheap price.

Lucifer smirks, tightening his grip on Dean’s throat; the hunter releases a strangled gasp. Cas can’t endure another second; his eyes narrow, angry and determined. “Yes.”

Lucifer immediately drops the hunter, closing the distance between them in a single stride. He yanks on Castiel’s tie, pulling him close. “You won’t regret this, brother.”

Blinding light consumes everything when Cas accepts his fate. He’s doing the right thing: he’s protecting the Winchesters and he’s taking the correct tactical step towards vanquishing The Darkness. He’s broken --

_No one cares that you’re broken, Cas!_

\-- so he wouldn’t be much help, anyways.

He closes his eyes, still weeping out of physical pain. He’s only a cried a few times in his existence, each occasion more unpleasant than the last. When Naomi trained him to kill Dean, when the angels fell…

Cas knows the world will be better off without him. He’s expendable, after all.  

Castiel hears Dean screaming his name, but he’s sure the sound is nothing more than wishful thinking.

**Author's Note:**

> Some constructive criticism would be appreciated! Please comment some feedback! Thank you for reading!


End file.
